Eleven. The Last Dragon

[wakethedragon]

{There's a burst of static, and words muttered in High Valyrian. When the video transmission begins, the communicator is held close, the camera revealing a gleaming black breastplate. The center of the breastplate is crushed. What was once a three-headed dragon sigil worked entirely in rubies is now twisted and buckled in the center of the chest,

Comments

[dont_tell_sansa]

...Viserys? [SO CONFUSED.]

[wakethedragon]

[He looks at the screen.]

Viserys? Is he here?

[Where is 'here,' exactly. There was battle and the Trident, now there was a room with dragons painted on the ceiling. He rolls the ruby between his fingers as he lowers that hand.]

Could you tell me where I am?

[dont_tell_sansa]

[She is eying those rubies. It pricks at some memory, some old lesson, but...]

Who are you?

[wakethedragon]

I'm Rhaegar Targaryen. Prince of Dragonstone. Have I been captured?

[wardennolonger]

[That shattered breastplate is a little concerning]

Ho there stranger, are you injured?

[wakethedragon]

I...

[His voice trails off and he looks down at the ruined plate. Logic and experience tell him that there is no feasible way he is still standing.]

I'm not certain, ser.

[wardennolonger]

Take a moment and inspect yourself; might you need some medical attention? The damage to your armor is concerning.

[wakethedragon]

I think I may have been killed. [He speaks very slowly and stares off at nothing.]

I feel no pain, but this indicates a mortal wound. [He gestures absently toward the front of his breastplate.] A strange child is telling me the foe I was facing in battle killed me.

[uberwaldian]

Wow! Look at that armor. What happened to you, mister? [Although really, young Mr. Nobby Nobbs seems far more interested in the loose ruby Rhaegar is holding...]

[wakethedragon]

[Hands off my few remaining rubies, Mr. Nobby Nobbs.]

I believe I took a large blow to the chest.

[Baratheon's warhammer would have done the trick. He frowns and spins the ruby between his fingers.]

There's really no other explanation.

[uberwaldian]

So you're like one of those zombees now?

[Little Cecil Wormsborough St. John considers this from all angles, and comes up disappointed. Still, it's worth a shot...] I hears as they say you can't take it with you?

[wakethedragon]

If I am dead, then anything of value that remains in my possession will be left to my brother.